


the brightest thing illuminating the room

by vowelinthug



Series: that pirate aesthetic [2]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Ear Piercings, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 12:10:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7507783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vowelinthug/pseuds/vowelinthug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sequel to "let me be your passenger" </p><p>where Silver is a little prick and gets a little prick</p><p> and I use that joke like ten more times</p>
            </blockquote>





	the brightest thing illuminating the room

**Author's Note:**

> title from another Leon Bridges song, I don't know why I keep bringing that poor man into this
> 
> not completely necessary to read the first part, this "series" is really just me using pirate aesthetic cliches as an excuse to make two gay losers have sex. spoilers for that other story: silver gets tattoos, and then they do it
> 
> I wrote most of this with heat stroke :/

* * *

 

Silver lay propped up on the bed, completely naked. His hair had come loose from his tie and it hung down his shoulders, framing his face. His eyes were closed and his breathing even, the replica of the _Walrus_ tattooed on his chest rocking steadily in even waters.

Flint approached quietly, a thin, deadly looking knife in his hand.

Silver opened his eyes. Saw the knife in Flint's hand and said, "No fucking way."

Flint stopped mid-step. "What's wrong? I thought you wanted--"

"I wanted a small _hole,_ Flint, I don't want you to cut the whole goddamn thing off. I borrowed a needle from Howell, it's on the table."

Flint - did not pout. He turned with the knife but did not holster it. He didn't have his holster on. He was also completely naked.

"Oh, and would you mind terribly," added Silver from the bed behind him, "walking just a little slower? There you go. Beautiful."

Flint wanted to turn back and say something, but the heat he felt in his face would have belied anything he came up with. He busied himself putting the knife on the desk and looking for Howell's needle.

Silver had begun to seem a bit more like his old self again. Flint attributed it to the tattoos and regularly getting fucked. Though both their horrible losses were occurring at the same time, Flint felt he'd begun to move on. He attributed this to having a physical enemy to destroy and regularly getting fucked. 

But unlike Flint's torment, Silver had never before experienced losing a limb. Unlike Flint's loss, Silver's was plain, visible to anyone looking at him, open to both sympathy and insult and Flint wasn't sure what Silver hated more. And unlike Flint's pain, Silver's might as well still been an open wound, for all the sharp, fresh chronic agony he felt with every step.  
  
It's not surprising they'd adjust at their own pace. And Silver would never be the man he was before, but Flint didn't know how much of a bad thing that was. Silver had already been changing before the loss of his leg, and now he was no longer the opportunistic, aimless, shitty man-child he'd been before.  
  
The tattoos brought him back to his own body instead of his entire daily focus to the few exposed nerves at the end of his knee. Flint understood this, and appreciated it in more ways than one. And their new relationship was -- good, too. For both of them.

He found the needle under a map, and beside it lay a single gold earring, which he also grabbed. He held the needle up to inspect in the light slowly filling his cabin. The sun was coming up over the horizon, and by the time it set that night they would be arriving in Nassau.

“When do you suppose this had been cleaned last?” said Flint, still squinting at the sharp piece of metal.

“Probably the last time anything on this ship had been cleaned,” said Silver. “I’d say sometime last Spring.”

Flint hummed, approaching the bed. He stood next to it, waiting.

Silver looked up at him, frowning. “If you think I am putting on that boot and getting up a minute before I have to, you’re out of your fucking mind.”

Flint frowned back at him. “So I’m just supposed to crane over you and do it?”

“I have a seat ready for you right here,” said Silver, patting his bare thighs.

Flint would have rolled his eyes, but that would mean he’d have to stop looking at Silver’s thighs and what sat half-hard between them, and he wasn’t quite prepared to do that. He gave it another few seconds, and then he rolled his eyes, but he also swung a leg over. He sat, knees cradling Silver’s hips. Their cocks grazed against each other lightly, and their breaths hitched together. Silver looked at him, and Flint held up the needle.

“It’s just a little prick,” said Flint. “Won’t feel a thing.”

Silver sat up, scowling, his hands sitting low at the base of Flint’s back to keep his balance. “You mean to insult me?”

“No, you _ass_ , you know I was talking about--”

“I’ll show _you_ a little prick,” Silver said, and he leant forward to bite Flint’s lip while one hand grabbed blindly at a half-full jar of oil. “Rest assured, Captain, you will feel _everything_.”

“You’re an idiot,” said Flint, but his cock was now fully hard, because apparently idiocy did it for him now. He grabbed Silver’s left earlobe, the gold earring still curled in his hand. He lined the needle up, trying to focus on keeping the tip central in the lobe and not on Silver slicking up his fingers.

The needle pierced the soft lobe the exact moment Silver slide one digit inside Flint. Silver didn’t even seem to register the small metal stabbing him. Flint, however, gasped, his eyes fluttering shut. Silver pushed inside all the way to the second knuckle, and Flint fought hard to not rock back onto it.

“Who’s the little prick now?” said Silver.

“Still you,” said Flint.

He twisted the needle slightly, making sure the hole was wide enough to fit the earring inside. Silver must be feeling it somewhat, because at that moment he began to mimic Flint’s movements, twisting his finger back and forth inside of him, stretching him out. Blood began dripping from the hole in Silver’s ear, oil began leaking out of Flint’s ass as Silver added another finger.

Flint locked eyes with Silver, and slowly began pushing the needle in and out of Silver’s lobe, and Silver slowly began to fuck Flint with two fingers.

“You are so fucking weird,” Flint moaned, pulling the needle out completely and tossing it on the bed. He slid the gold stud into the new hole but fumbled with the clasp, as Silver had added another finger and was fucking in earnest now, scissoring him open. “ _Fuck._ ”

He finally got the earring to close and immediately grabbed Silver’s shoulders, as it was now four fingers working inside him. Silver wasn’t even paying attention to what his hand was doing, focused entirely on watching Flint gasping above him, in time with each thrust.

“How’s it look?” said Silver reverently. His mouth hung open, working silently, as though he wanted to kiss Flint but couldn’t stop looking at him long enough to do it.

The gold earring shone brightly against his blood-flushed ear and his dark hair. Flint knew if he told him how good it looked it would only encourage him, and even though he had given up entirely on trying to keep still and was now actively fucking back onto Silver’s hand, he wasn’t going to just _tell_ Silver he looked beautiful or anything.

So he leaned down, and one of his hands dropped down, landing right on his ribcage, where his latest tattoo was currently healing - two sharks swimming in opposite directions (“To commemorate the first time you were nice to me.” “You mean that time when I had every justification to kill you and didn’t?” “Aww, you remembered.”). He pressed on the tattoo slightly, took the freshly pierced earlobe into his mouth, blood and all, and sucked.

“ _Christ_ ,” Silver whimpered, jerking upwards. He removed his fingers suddenly, and Flint couldn’t help the whine that escaped him, barely muffled by Silver’s ear. Silver pushed up on his ass with one hand, using the other to line up his cock to Flint’s asshole. He started inching into Flint, taking his sweet time, but the sun kept insisting on rising today, and tomorrow they could be dead, and they were due to start running this ship any moment now, so Flint did what he always does and took control, pushing back onto Silver’s cock until he was fully seated.

Silver whined, high and long, his nails digging into Flint’s ass. Flint released Silver’s ear and kissed him hard, opening his mouth and letting Silver suck on his tongue, gripping his hair tightly with both hands.

It felt good, Silver inside him. It felt _so good_ , like a piece of him that had been missing for so long was now firmly back in place. Not a person - not the shadows of Thomas or Miranda that have merged forever with his own shadow, which will follow him for the rest of his life -- but a _part_ of _himself_. There were times, when they were being intimate, when he watched Silver interact with the crew, when he saw the light in Silver’s eyes in a moment of violence -- where Silver seemed like an extension of Flint, two halves of one whole unholy union. Silver terrified Flint, the way Flint terrified himself, because there was so much destruction they were both capable of if given just the slightest motivation. But then all the parts of Flint he couldn’t bring himself to hate -- his cunning, his pleasure, his power -- these things he saw in Silver too.

Silver pulled away from Flint’s mouth, leaning back against the wall of the ship again, the movement causing him to jerk up inside of Flint just a little. He smirked. “What was that you were saying about a little prick?”

John Silver: killer of men, killer of moments.

Flint groaned. “I’m going to fucking kill you.” He let his hands drift to Silver’s throat, like he might actually strangle him.

“Well, that’s only fitting, since you’re paying for my funeral,” said Silver, tucking a strand of hair delicately behind his ear to show off the gold earring, it’s twin currently in Flint’s own ear. It was a little romantic, but neither one of them was going to be the first to mention it.

“Like hell. When you’re dead I’m just kicking you overboard and using that gold to buy myself a new jacket.”

Silver hummed, running his hands over Flint’s arms, momentarily lost in thought. Flint knew he was fond of his jackets. Then he let go, and said, “It occurs to me that we are in for a very busy next few days, and I really shouldn’t be expelling any more energy than is entirely necessary, given that I tend to use more of it than you just getting around.”

Flint blinked. He leaned back. He blinked again. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t want to fuck me?”

Silver’s eyes glittered in the early light, and lifted his hands to rest behind his head. “I’m saying you should go fuck _yourself_ , Captain.”

Flint was half-tempted to just kick Silver overboard _now_ , but his words set Flint on fire, his whole body alight. Because, okay, a blind man could see Flint liked to be in control pretty much all the time, and the thought of taking this, fucking himself on Silver’s cock the way he wanted it done, Silver helpless to do anything other than _give it to him_ \-- well, a blind man could see Flint liked to be in control, but Silver saw everything about him there was to see.

“Fine,” Flint said through gritted teeth. He leaned forward again, and brought his hands down deliberately on Silver’s wrists, smothering the swallow on the left, pinning them behind his head. “But you can’t touch. Wouldn’t want you exerting yourself too much.”

Flint rocked once on Silver’s cock and smiled, not particularly nicely, as the smirk dropped from his face, as his hands twitched in Flint’s firm grasp. He knew Silver knew it, but sometimes they both enjoyed the reminder - Silver could fuck Flint, but he couldn’t fuck _with_ Flint, not without consequences.

He lifted himself up, slow, and then sat back down hard, and both their resulting groans sounded punched out of them, involuntarily. Silver was fisting his own hair, tugging on it with the effort not to break Flint’s hold.

Flint bent down to kiss Silver, all teeth and tongue and harsh breathing, furious at him for forcing Flint to hold onto his hands, thereby rendering him incapable of tugging on Silver’s hair himself. Doing everything to Silver was his favorite thing, but that in particular was his _favorite_. Flint began bouncing on Silver’s cock, fast and indignant and craving.

The wet sound of their skin slapping and the creaking of the wooden bed filled the room, along with Silver’s loud whines, barely muffled by Flint’s mouth, which kept sliding from Silver’s lips as he worked himself up and down on Silver's cock. Flint couldn't concentrate on kissing Silver and fucking him at the same time, and so he tilted his head back to catch his breath.

Silver immediately latched on to Flint’s throat, leaving a trail of wet bites from behind Flint’s ear down to his collarbone. Apparently forgetting the importance of conserving his energy, his hips kept rising up to Flint's ass, like he was trying to stay inside him. If Flint had been dedicated to this game they were playing, he’d have found a way to keep Silver still beneath him, but they didn't have the time, and even the smallest thrusts got Silver deeper inside him, hitting that spot that made all the muscles in his body shiver, that made his cock red and aching, leaving a long wet streak of pre-cum where it rubbed against the flat of Silver's stomach.

Flint stopped moving, his thighs trembling from exertion. Silver kept thrusting up into him though, worrying a large purple bruise right at the base of Flint's throat.

Flint moaned, squeezing Silver's wrists and gasped, “Stop. Stop.”

Silver stopped.

He tore himself away from Flint's skin and looked up at him. His lips were shining and slightly swollen, and though his eyes were still black and dazed, he looked concerned.

Flint squeezed Silver's wrists again, hard, as a warning, before sliding one hand down to cover Silver's neck. Silver kept his hands in place, even when Flint began to rock on his cock again. His legs felt too strained to lift himself up and down at an even pace, so instead he stayed fully seated in Silver's lap, his cock full and solid and perfect inside him, and he ground down, working his hips roughly.

Silver looked like he was about to pull his own hair out. “Please, Captain, _please_ ,” he moaned, his voice tight from the grip Flint kept on his throat. “Please let me touch you, _fuck,_  Christ. I need to touch you, Captain, _please_.”

“Fuck,” gasped Flint, leaning in, his hips grinding. Against Silver's lips he said, “Only because you asked nicely.”

Silver's hands shot out from behind his hair, and Flint’s immediately moved to replace them, tugging the curls around each individual finger. Silver's hands roamed everywhere, starting at his ass, running his nails hard up Flint's back and head, before one hand gripped Flint’s cock and the other reached up to pinch one of Flint's nipples.

Flint felt he could have kept going a little while longer, but then Silver just kept rubbing one thumb over the head of his cock, sliding his nail over the slit, in time with his other thumb rubbing hard over one nipple, and Flint came with an almost animalistic moan, shooting all over their stomachs.

Silver held him through it, looking at Flint with such adoration, and when Flint slumped loosely against him he grabbed Flint by the ass, thrusting up hard. Flint only had the strength to squeeze down his cock, but it only took a few more pushes before Silver stopped, shuddering. Flint privately loved the feeling of come in his ass, feeling open and wet, it trickling down over his balls and between his thighs. It was how he feels winning a war feels like, in a way he couldn't properly verbalize, but he was pretty sure if Silver fucked him like that before every fight Flint could conquer the whole world.

Flint rested on Silver's shoulder, one hand still in his hair but the other moved to sit at the base of his throat again, fingertips pushing on his collarbones. Silver had his arms tight around his back, his heavy panting rocking him like a friendly ocean. The room was now filled with morning sunlight, and they could vaguely hear the sound of hard footsteps and men shouting above them.

Flint looked up a little and saw Silver’s eyes were closed, content. He knew from experience Silver could easily fall asleep again, especially with the weight of Flint on top of him, so he gently eased himself off, ignoring Silver’s mumbled protests.

“We do still have a ship to run,” said Flint, but not happily. When he stood up he stretched widely, relishing the ache in his ass and the quiver in his legs. Behind him Silver made an low, approving sound.

He turned to see Silver leaning against the back of the bed, much like he’d been before, only now his hair was a complete disaster, his body and cock shone with sweat and come, and he had in a gold earrings. He was watching Flint was half-lidded eyes, a curious tilt to his mouth, and Flint was overcome with _some_ kind of emotion that he just had to grab him by the hair and kiss him again.

“Get up,” Flint said roughly a few moments later. “You’ve got men to see to. I want them spitting blood by the time we get to Nassau. We need to finalize our first strike against those British forces and I don't want anyone missing a step. There cannot be a split second of hesitation from anyone out there or everything we're trying to achieve could be lost. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, alright,” said Silver. He’d swung his leg to the floor and sat there for a moment. He seemed to be surveying the cabin looking for his boot and his pants. “Enough with the monologue, it is way too early for it and I’m in too good a mood. Anyone ever tell you, you get particularly bloodthirsty after getting fucked?”

Yes, Flint _had_ heard that before. But seeing as how Silver was the one who’d said it, it didn't bear mentioning. The iron leg had somehow ended up by his desk chair, so he went to get it for him.

When he turned back around, he saw Silver still sitting on the bed. Now he was looking between his legs, and Flint saw he held Howell’s needle between his fingers.

“Did you know,” said Silver consideringly, not looking up, “I’ve heard in some cultures it's traditional for men to get a piercing on their cock?”

Captain Flint tripped.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> if anyone knows any good pirate stereotypes I could turn into porn, please let me know! the only ones I can think of are "parrot" and "hook hand", and while one probably _could_ make those sexy, I don't think one necessarily _should_.


End file.
